


Corona Australis

by Sophisticated_Adult



Series: We Mapped The Stars [9]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Galvatron being Galvatron, M/M, sad angry baby x sad angsty dork OTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophisticated_Adult/pseuds/Sophisticated_Adult
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some ways, Galvatron is a very simple mech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corona Australis

Galvatron was young enough, so newly created into this universe that happiness was not yet something he'd personally experienced.  
  
Pain.  
  
Rage, fury, anger, wrath - there were differences between them, and he knew them all.  
  
Abject disbelief, if only for a few moments, when his world was filled with burning _burning_ white light when Rodimus Prime was created.  
  
A tiny thankfulness, one he'd never directly acknowledge, to be away from the Matrix that burned and rejected him even as he held it in his victorious grasp. Sometimes - only ever when he was alone - Galvatron would remember it, the ridiculous gaudy necklace he'd insisted on, and shudder, touch the spot on his chest where the thing had rested - just above his spark chamber. In his weaker moments, he thought that perhaps it still burned. A permanent mark of divine fire.  
  
He did not enjoy dwelling on such thoughts.  
  
He did not enjoy much at all, in fact.  
  
He saw little reason to.  
  
His followers, his Decepticons, were inheritances from Megatron. He had their fear and respect, which was enough, but in Megatron's absence they would follow the strongest and most feared mech regardless.  
  
They were a splintering, disintegrating faction who already thought they'd lost. The vast majority of them, one or two exceptions aside (and his own two lieutenants, naturally) he was completely disgusted by. _This_ was an army? _This_ was what he had to work with?  
  
On top of it all, they had fled - fled, retreated, there was no other way to put it - to Chaar while the Autobots retook Cybertron, a place Galvatron himself had no stake or particular interest in save the importance others placed upon it. It was certainly no ancestral homeland to one who'd been torn apart and remade in the cold vastness of the infnite. It was mostly rubble anyway.  
  
Cybertron...yes, to Galvatron it was just another world to conquer.  
  
In reality, he was far more interested in its leader.  
  
In what passed for nights on Chaar, lying on his hastily constructed berth - more like a slab cut from the rock with some thermal blankets either donated or acquired from somewhere, not that Galvatron used them - he would sometimes dream of the white light.  
  
Of the young Prime, blazing blue optics, as astonished as Galvatron was, completely out of reach.  
  
_Here is something,_ the universe seemed to be saying, _that you cannot have._  
  
_You will burn if you take it._  
  
Galvatron idly clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the flexing fingers that had so recently been around the Prime's neck, hardly listening as Onslaught made a halting report on - was it supplies? Surely Cyclonus would inform him of anything he truly needed to know.  
  
He'd burned before.  
  
What would he do, if he had Rodimus Prime in his grasp? A quick death was far too wasteful of such a mech.  
  
The possibilities were endless.  
  
Rodimus Prime kneeling before him, beaten, bruised -  
  
No.  
  
If he were to claim the Prime as his own, he needed to properly reflect Galvatron's glory. Such harsh treatment was for the worthless fools who failed him, not his own possessions.  
  
Rodimus Prime kneeling before him, gleaming and perfect, optics obediently downward in willing submission, a soft smile on his face as he accepted his true place in the universe.  
  
Better. But - Galvatron tapped the table irritably - it didn't quite please him entirely. Something, some small piece, was off. He couldn't place it - how could he not know his own spark's desire? What nonsense!  
  
He abruptly stood up, Onslaught instantly falling into silence.  
  
"Dismissed," he said, levelling a cold glare that meant the Combaticon absolutely did not need to be told twice. "Cyclonus."  
  
"At once, Lord."  
  
His ever-present second followed as Galvatron strode out of the room, inwardly raging at his own spark's refusal to reveal itself.  
  
Doubtless he would discover it once the Prime was his.  
  
That was just a matter of time.  
  
Until then, Cyclonus was a rather excellent way of taking his mind off it.

**Author's Note:**

> Galvatron Sure Is Galvatron: The Fic.
> 
> (guess who's never going to not include this pairing if there is even the flimsiest opportunity for it, spoilers it's me)


End file.
